Regulatory Bodies: Control, Creative Expression and The Drama of
Lady Audley’s Secret
On Saturday 3 January 1891, Miss
Linington’s provincial touring theatre
company performed ‘a new and original
version’ of Lady Audley’s Secret to a select
audience [Fig. 1]. Formerly called the
‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ company in 1879 and
the ‘L’Assommoir’ company in the 1880s,
Miss Linington’s troupe specialised in
popular melodramas.1 Her company was not
critically acclaimed, but clearly made a profit
from lengthy tours of small venues and
provincial theatres for over thirty years.2
Despite her low, itinerant status, Miss
Linington advocated an image of
respectability seldom associated with
actresses, as her frequent adverts for new staff
Fig. 1. Playbill for
required that ‘All must dress well on and off
Lady Audley’s Secret
stage’.3 Her professionalism and attention to
detail is evident in the format of the playbill for
Lady Audley’s Secret as the by-line ‘taken from the novel’ claimed an authenticity to
Braddon’s text which distinguished it from previous adaptations in 1863 by William E. Suter
or Colin H. Hazlewood. Miss Lizzie Linington played the lead female role of Lady Audley,
supported by a small cast of six other performers. To counter the sensational scenes, the
company concluded the evening’s entertainment with ‘a laughable farce’ entitled A Quiet
Family.4 Without the original playscript, it is impossible to discern the content of this
version, although the castlist indicates the omission of Clara Talboys’ character which was
typical of available adaptations by Suter, Hazlewood and Roberts. Her absence enables
Robert Audley to marry Alicia, an act that re-establishes the Audley family name before
these family values were satirised in the afterpiece.5 What is striking about this performance
1
of Lady Audley’s Secret is not so much the longevity of a sensational text created by specific
cultural anxieties surrounding definitions of madness and femininity, but its setting, for the
play’s venue was Berry Wood Asylum, Northamptonshire’s county provision for the insane.
The adaptation of a sensation novel into therapeutic entertainment for asylum patients
is distinctly problematic, particularly given the genre’s reputation for dangerously enervating
the reader to supply the ‘cravings of a diseased appetite’.6 It raises questions of how the
performance of an overtly self-staging heroine was deemed an appropriate form of
rehabilitation for the mentally ill and why Braddon’s iconographic heroine in particular, was
embraced by the theatre. The patients at Berry Wood were allowed to watch mime acts and
popular plays such as John Maddison Morton’s Box and Cox (1847) on a fortnightly basis, in
order to entertain and instruct them in the art of bodily representation which paralleled actor
training.7 Here the asylum inmates were shown the importance of the body as a diagnostic
tool and more subversively, by implication how to re-represent or even mask the self through
figurative gesture and outward appearance. After being given visual examples of bodily
signification, patients were then encouraged to perform in theatricals for the benefit of the
public. Dora Kingsley’s role as Isabel Vane in Berry Wood’s performance of East Lynne on
Saturday 26 November 1892, radically depicted the patient’s own potential to restage herself
as the angel in the house through the appropriation of suitable gesture and speech.8 Contrary
to Foucault’s assertion that Victorian psychiatric practice was marked by its need to manage
deviancy through containment at a distance from polite society,9 theatricals were commonly
staged for the benefit of patients and members of the public.10 The floor plans and interiors
of many county asylums, including Hellingly in East Sussex, Westpark in Surrey and
Wittingham in North Preston show stages and proscenium arches within their main
buildings.11 A ‘real’ audience changed the dynamics of the asylum theatricals, giving the
patients the opportunity to display self-control through staged gestures and speeches whilst
their context indicated the consequences of displaying transgressive behaviour. Miss
Linington’s choice of Lady Audley’s Secret, with its added frisson of being performed in an
asylum, reveals that Braddon’s heroine provided an ideal locus to debate the tension between
visual modes of self-expression, social regulation and public surveillance.
Lady Audley’s Secret resonates with a sense of theatricality grounded in the
eponymous heroine’s propensity for visual tactics to attract an audience. Repositioning the
dramatic exchange between actress and audience within the domestic sphere sensitised the
reader to the question of diagnosing potentially morally degenerative artificiality whilst
involving the reader in the complicit act of encouraging Lady Audley’s performance through
2
consumer demand. This complex relationship between consumerism, theatre and society saw
Lady Audley’s figure assume an iconographic status, appearing in commissioned illustrations
for the London Journal serialisation, literary memorabilia, such as the doily in [Fig. 2] and
dramatic adaptations. Whilst critics such as Lyn Voiskull and Andrew King have engaged
Fig. 2. Victorian literary memorabilia c. 1870: A doily featuring an illustration of Lady
Audley and Robert Audley accompanied by a section from the novel.
with the literary images of Lady Audley, little has been written on the creative interplay
between the novel and the theatre itself.12 Improved access to reviews, photographs,
playbills, newly catalogued licensing manuscripts and digitised acting editions significantly
contributes to our understanding of the symbiotic relationship between fiction and the drama.
This disembodied, fragmentary material begins to address the challenge of reconstructing
theatrical moments lost from view, but is marked by a fixity that is in stark contrast with the
moving, performative mode. However this article argues that the theatre’s response to Lady
Audley’s Secret was grounded in the conflict between the liberating mobility of selfexpression and the fixity of regulation, ironically validating the use of licensing manuscripts
and acting editions as evidence. The theatre’s remediation of Braddon’s text moves beyond
merely capitalising upon the novel’s popularity to use Lady Audley’s figure as a metaphor for
the material conditions of the theatre itself, as the containment of the performative heroine
within the confines of an asylum reflected the regulatory processes of copyright and
licensing.
3
Beginning with the way in which aspiring actresses used Lady Audley as a model to
display their histrionic variety, I argue that the theatre used her character to engage with the
complex connections between drama and commodity culture. Her autophagy in favour of an
illusionary identity provided a model for actresses to visualise a practice of selfcommodification whilst highlighting the tension between the illusionary material practices of
the theatre and the materiality of commodity culture. The drive for regulation and ownership
of the theatrical medium finds its locus in the various dramatic adaptations of Lady Audley’s
Secret. Using the evidence of unlicensed versions, ****a licensing text of John Brougham’s
Where There’s Life There’s Hope and the published acting edition of William E. Suter’s Lady
Audley’s Secret, I move to show how these scripts, although the fixed product of regulatory
statutes in Licence Laws and Copyright Laws, bear witness to a continued debate on the
relationship between control and creativity. The versions by John Brougham, William E.
Suter, George Roberts and Colin Hazlewood indicate the complexities of a theatrical culture
which remediated Braddon’s heterogeneous novel into plays designed to target a specific
audience with expectations of genre, style and plot. What is significant about the later, more
well-known adaptations is their common representation of Lady Audley’s mental collapse
and death, an extratextual event that problematises the reader’s sympathetic response to her
containment. Even when read at a temporal distance from the performance, the licensing and
printed acting edition serve as a key example of the contemporary difficulties associated with
regulating a multi-centred creative culture. Even in a reduced, textual format, the figure of
Lady Audley functions as a site where the state regulation of the theatre is explored and
contested. The containment of Lady Audley comes to symbolise not only the regulatory
processes of licensing and copyright, but also the commodity culture which dehumanised the
theatrical subject through audience demand.
The ‘Style of Advertising Female’: Lady Audley’s Secret as Commodity.
Actresses – what was clear is that MEB’s heroine was assimilated into all classes,
ironical given MEB’s critique of materialism – Frith ‘my lady Audley’ ! - evidence of doily
– visual evidence of the Brougham approach to the text – Suter’s take on restrictions,
containment of LA as metaphor for the position of the theatre – watched, expected to perform
and marginalised (feminised form yet actresses most reviled)
4
Advertising announcements in the major theatrical journal The Era for 1863 indicate a
trend for aspiring actresses to promote their career by associating with Braddon’s sensation
heroine, ironically illustrating what the critic W.F. Rae had described as Lady Audley’s ‘style
of the advertising female’.13 The role’s demand for the full range of comic and melodramatic
modes of expression effectively covered the repertoire of styles, proving ideal material to
attract theatrical agents and managers on both sides of the Atlantic. The paradoxical image of
female self-staging through theatrical dissimulation that formed Braddon’s marketing
strategy as ‘the Author of Lady Audley’s Secret’ resonated through the images of numerous
actresses keen to showcase their histrionic talents. The remediation of Lady Audley into a
moving, dramatic persona functioned as a site where the materialistic impulse behind selfstaging enabled by the material practices of the theatre could be explored and contested. The
theatrical response to Lady Audley was as illusive and as complex as her narrative image, resensitising the audience to the fragile boundaries
as her figure comes to embody the drives of a commodity culture which Thomas
Richards has termed both ‘invasive and evasive’.14
However, whilst the artist William Frith referred to her as ‘my Lady Audley’ in his
letters, she was separated artistically and financially from her creation by the numerous
unlicensed stage adaptations made by ambitious actresses.
The remediation of Lady Audley’s image as an icon for female ambition ironically
negated the potential for female community,
The American actress Miss Heron announced her arrival in London complete with her
own adaptation of Lady Audley’s Secret.15 A Miss Agnes Burdett declared her intention to
debut in Coventry with a new adaptation ‘written expressly for her’ by William Eburne, who
further claimed that his version was dramatised ‘by the express sanction and wish of the
authoress M.A.[sic] Braddon’ and that copies could be obtained from his London Office of
the Dramatic, Equestrian and Musical Sick Fund.16 The audience at the Theatre Royal,
Brighton experienced the added frisson of seeing a real peeress, Lady Don, in the role of
Lady Audley.17 The Hampshire Telegraph and Sussex Chronicle contained a suitably
reserved review of her earlier performances, choosing to focus upon her successful move
from comedy to melodrama rather than on the problematic connections between
5
respectability and theatricality that Lady Audley’s Secret engaged with.18 However, a review
from the foreign news column of The Era for 11 October 1863 suggests why actresses and
audiences alike were attracted to role. The extract from the New York Albion concerned the
actress and theatre manager Mrs Elizabeth Bowers’ performance in John Brougham’s pirated
version of Lady Audley’s Secret in October 1863. The reviewer was clearly impressed by
Mrs Bowers’ ability to reflect the extreme duplicity of Lady Audley as ‘a beautiful blonde
woman – young, gay, glittering, dangerous, a sleeping volcano of peril [who] alternates from
dignity to rage...whereby she expresses in natural colour and finished outline, the tiger nature
within the womans [sic]’.19 What is interesting here is the language indicative of a dangerous
female sexuality which lies beneath the archetypal image of accepted femininity. The
combination of Mrs Bowers’ appearance as a vapid, blonde nullity with the emotional
intensity of a tigress figures her as both a commodity and a sexual predator. The
juxtaposition between the theatrically-posed ‘finished outline’ and a ‘natural colour’ hints
that social training in gesture and deportment cannot contain smouldering female passion
evidenced in her face. Indeed, William Archer’s treatise Masks or Faces? (1888) devotes an
entire section entitled ‘Nature’s Cosmetics’ to the extreme difficulty of controlling the colour
of the face that often necessitated an actor’s use of cosmetics to simulate blushing or pallor.20
Whereas Mrs Bowers had mastered this advanced technique, Braddon’s Lady Audley
singularly relies upon ‘pearl powder’ and ‘pencilled eyebrows’.21
Mrs Bowers’ representation of Lady Audley indicates that the dynamic of her figure
had changed, for whereas Braddon’s novel created tension through the opposing evidence of
word and image, the dramatists relied upon the schism between opposing images of
femininity. A rare opportunity to witness this dichotomy, albeit in a static form, is offered in
the existence of a photograph of Mrs Bowers as Lady Audley [Fig. 3].22 She is pictured in
costume sitting astride a chair. Her light-coloured evening dress is in stark contrast to the
dark chair, although both are heavily
6
Fig. 3. Cabinet Photograph of Miss Bowers as Lady Audley in John Eburne’s 1863 New
York production of Lady Audley’s Secret.
decorated. Her blonde hair is in ringlets as Braddon had described, however Mrs Bowers’
posture is distinctly duplicitous. Her facial expression and slight tilt of the head indicate a
childish appeal to the gaze, but this suggestion of proper, almost infantilised femininity is
undermined by her bare hands, throat and shoulder. Perhaps the most striking aspect of the
photograph is the relationship between her lower body and the chair. For in directly facing
the camera she is sitting astride the chair, an action that denotes sexual promiscuity. The
position of the chair maintains her modesty, but its contrasting colour also serves to draw the
viewer’s gaze to the female form’s open legs that lie behind it. The careful suggestion of
sexual liberation under the guise of modesty is a fascinating anticipation of Lewis Morley’s
infamous photograph of Christine Keeler, exactly a hundred years later.23 What this picture
suggests is that actresses in particular embraced Braddon’s heroine as a means to articulate
their own morally ambiguous position within society. That aspiring actresses were able to
remediate their own ambition through a popular literary icon signalled the particular
conditions by which appropriation and piracy flourished in the mid-Victorian period.
7
After its first complete serialisation in the Sixpenny Magazine from January to
December of 1862, Braddon’s Lady Audley’s Secret effectively became public property. Her
heroine was remodelled into a static image adorning postcards and even doilies [Fig. 2] for
the middle-classes to own, paralleling the mania for Trilby related goods in the 1890s.24
Such items indicate not just the commodification of Lady Audley, but more crucially show an
increasing remediation of her image that validated Braddon’s critique of the materialistic
drives that underpin Lady Audley’s marriage whilst problematising Braddon’s own selfmarketing as ‘The Author of Lady Audley’s Secret’. The modern reader can only speculate
at the impulse that lay behind the purchase of a doily figuring a scene from Lady Audley’s
Secret, the lower quality of edging in cotton cord rather than lace suggests that it was priced
for the lower-middle classes. Mass-produced as one of a set of doilies representing scenes
from Victorian authors including Dickens and Trollope, this curious item of literary
memorabilia aligns Lady Audley’s Secret with a ‘modern sensational school’ typified by a
melodramatic contrast between female passivity and male aggression disguised as moral
justice. The illustration juxtaposes the dark, accusatory figure of Robert Audley with the
pale, unconscious Lady Audley to form a picture loaded with the suggestion of sexual danger.
Although the table separates Robert from Lady Audley, the slant of the easel and his forward
posture both imply the nature of his threat. Her powerlessness is emphasized by her lack of
mobility in a gesture that is taken directly from the novel: ‘Sitting quietly in her chair, her
head fallen [sic] back upon the amber damask cushions, and her little hands lying powerless
in her lap’.25 In the interest of brevity, this section of narrative is omitted from the
accompanying extract. The costume, posture and dynamics of Lady Audley figure her as the
archetypal ‘woman in white’, repositioning Braddon’s allegedly subversive heroine alongside
Wilkie Collins’ disenfranchised Anne Catherick and Laurie Fairlie. This alignment sits
uneasily with the initial twentieth century critical reclamation of Lady Audley as a prototype
feminist typified by Elaine Showalter and Lyn Pykett.26 In printing a section of the text,
albeit in an abbreviated form, underneath the image, this unusual piece of evidence displays a
more sympathetic link with Braddon’s original than many of the dramatic adaptations. More
importantly however, it reveals that the popularity of Lady Audley’s Secret was based upon
8
the multiplicity of images that co-existed within the narrative framework to resist a single
interpretation. Braddon’s text could be viewed as a flagrant attempt to appeal to a broad
demographic spectrum of readers or as a direct reflection of what Chase and Levenson argue
was a ‘mass society incapable of controlling its anomalies’.27 Whilst recent critics have
focussed upon the context and nature of sensation fiction, what concerns me here is the
cultural response to Lady Audley’s variety. The specific conditions created by a lack of
copyright protection enabled dramatists to remediate Lady Audley’s Secret according to the
desires of the public rather than the original author. What emerges is a complex renegotiation
of Lady Audley’s image in line with the specific agendas of the theatre managers keen to
attract an audience and budding actresses keen to
LA model used by actresses to show how they could regulate themselves, self-stage
themselves in a variety of guises as repertoire – ironically mirroring of self-commodification
LA critiqued for.
This act of female self-commodification often involved specially commissioned,
unauthorised dramatic adaptations of Braddon’s novel, exploiting the lack of copyright
protection that also necessitated the need for playwrights to continually produce scripts in an
era before royalty payments – John Brougham version as eg of the numerous, hidden
versions, in addition to the ones I can’t find a licence for! .
However, the remediation of her character into a moving, dramatic persona functioned as a
site where the materialistic impulse behind self-staging enabled by the material practices of
the theatre could be explored and contested. The theatrical response to Lady Audley was as
illusive and as complex as her narrative image, as her figure comes to embody the drives of a
commodity culture which Thomas Richards has termed both ‘invasive and evasive’.28 This
article assesses the ways in which Victorian theatre practitioners explored the tension
between creativity and financial necessity through the figure of Lady Audley.
9
Suter – first one – problem of using a text, particularly when the notion of primacy of visual
over the written is at stake...specific moment in time and need to recognise it as evidence of
the legal processes to obtain a licence or copyright. Challenge of recreating material practice
which is not tangible as evidence – easier by using Suter as his licence scripts were more
developed than contemporaries – uses image of Lady Audley to embody the protean qualities
of melodrama that questions our notion of the genre as polarised characterisation, fixed moral
codes and rigid plot structures. Figure of LA invested with new meaning as her protean
creativity is moulded into expected histrionic – social regulation becomes emblem of state
regulation of the theatre. How self-regulating is LA/theatre ? Control v. repression
In reducing the complexities of the novel to suit the exigencies of mid-Victorian melodrama
and the demands of licensing, these dramatic adaptations have been accused of lacking in
literary merit and have been largely ignored. However, Suter’s writing style included stage
directions and evidence of the material practice involved in order to present the script for
licensing and publishing simultaneously.
Conc. her figure embodied the illisionary nature of the Victorian theatre which creates such a
challenge for us today – her character’s destabilising protean qualities are those of the theatre
itself. Dehumanising effect of capitalist drives & self-commodification, what Victorians
found difficult about LA is the paradoxical materialism in opposition to material practice that
allows to her become a moving target. In a world of commodity culture where the material is
paramount – ie great exhibition, the theatre destabilises the material with a conscious illusion
through material practice. Failure to contain the ghostly figure of LA is about the difficulty
in regulating the performative mode that exists in the memory. What we find difficult about
theatre and why it is so neglected ? texts that remain are a fragment of the complex affinities
between cultural mediums (ie art, drama etc) – how to record what is seen, performative is
everything that isn’t on the page.
1
Miss Linington continually changed the name of the troupe in line with the latest craze in drama. Her advert
for ‘coloured ladies’ for the ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ company appeared in The Era, Sunday 31 August, 1879, Issue
10
2136. The company named changed to the ‘L’Assommoir’ company a year later, to capitalise upon the success
of Zola’s 1877 novel.
2
The Ipswich Journal for Saturday 13 August 1898, Issue 9666 carried an article on her company’s benefit at
the Cottage Hospital, Southwold, at which the hospital was presented £10. Later that year, the company played
at the Theatre Royal, Bury St. Edmunds. See The Era Saturday 29 October, 1898.
3
See her advert for a new troupe for the ‘L’Assommoir’ company in The Era, Sunday 18 January, 1880.
4
Presumably William E. Suter’s A Quiet Family, first performed at the Royal Surrey Theatre in 1857.
5
Interestingly, the recent ITV production of Lady Audley’s Secret also removed Clara Talboys’ figure. At the
Braddon Conference at Birkbeck in 2000, the director Donald Hounam argued that she is only necessary in
terms of Robert Audley’s geographical position and subsequent detective work.
6
H.L. Mansel [anon.], ‘Sensation Novels’, Quarterly Review, 113 (April 1862), p. 483.
7
John Maddison Morton’s Box and Cox (1841) was shown on Saturday, 4 April 1891. See uncatalogued and
unfoliated volume Entertainments at Berry Wood [n.d.] from the records for St. Crispin’s Hospital file in box
NCLA/ located at the Northamptonshire Record Office. The book is a scrapbook of pasted in playbills covering
the period 1882 – 1899, several have handwritten comments on the quality of performance.
8
See Entertainments at Berry Wood [n.d.], box NCLA/. The programme for East Lynne is different to that of
Lady Audley’s Secret in that no theatre company is associated with the performance. No revenue for the tickets
appears in the General Ledger (also box NCLA/) but it records that £30 a quarter was spent on entertainments.
Dora Kingsley’s name does not appear in any of the theatrical journals of the period. As Northampton Record
Office has refused access to the patient records despite their being outside the 75-year exclusion period, I have
been unable to categorically confirm her status. Asylum patients can only be traced through the Public Record
Office at Kew if the year of entry is known.
9
See Michel Foucault, Madness and Civilisation: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason (London:
Routledge, 1995)[1961]. Indeed the practice of staging theatricals at Berry Wood continued until the asylum
moved to the St Andrews site, where amateur companies still regularly perform open-air performances of
Shakespeare.
10
John Crammer indicates that Buckingham County Asylum held theatricals, see Asylum History: Buckingham
County Pauper Lunatic Asylum – St. Johns (London: Gaskell, 1990), p. 84, as did Dr John Conolly’s Middlesex
Asylum at Hanwell. See The Illustrated London News, 55 (1843), reprinted in Denis Leigh, The Historical
Development of British Psychiatry: Vol. I (London: Pergamon, 1961), pp. 253-9 for an account of the fancy fairs
and masked balls which were a common feature of Conolly’s policy of inclusion.
11
Many site plans and original drawings of county asylums are now available online at
www.countyasylums.com The website for Urban Decay at www.amerlieriis.co.uk contains a huge number of
stunning photographs depicting the declining state of Victorian asylums. Architectural features such as
promescenium arches and stages are still discernible in these atmospheric photographs of derelict buildings.
12
W.F. Rae [anon.], ‘Sensation Novelists: Miss Braddon’, North British Review, n.s. 4 (1865), p. 183.
Thomas Richards, The Commodity Culture of Victorian England: Advertising and Spectacle, 1851 – 1914
(Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1990), p. 3.
15
The Era, vol. XXV, Sunday 17 May 1863,p. 1.
16
The Era, vol. XXV, Sunday 5 April 1863, p. 1. Neither adaptation was licensed by the Lord Chamberlain’s
Office. I am grateful to Dr Caroline Radcliffe for clarifying this point.
17
Playbill for New Theatre Royal, Brighton dated 18 September 1869, item UKC/POS/BTN NR: 0594895 from
the Playbill Collection at the Templeman Library, University of Kent at Canterbury Library.
18
The Hampshire Telegraph and Sussex Chronicle, 25 April, 1863, p. 8.
19
The Era, 11 October 1863, p. 5.
20
See Lee Strasberg (ed), Denis Diderot, The Paradox of Acting & William Archer, Masks or Faces? (New
York: Hill and Wang, 1957), pp. 159-171.
21
M.E. Braddon, Lady Audley’s Secret (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987)[1862], Vol. II, Ch. VII, p. 223
and Vol. I, Ch. IX, p. 79.
22
There is another cabinet photograph of Miss Bowers as Lady Audley in the Billy Rose Theatre Collection, ID
TH-27758, housed at the New York Public Library. It can be viewed at the New York Public Library Digital
Gallery at http://digitalgallery.nypl.org at http://images.nypl.org/?id=TH-27758&t=w. This is a full-length
photograph and can be identified as Miss Bowers in the same costume.
23
See the bromide print of Christine Keeler by Lewis Morley taken in 1963 at the National Portrait Gallery’s
website http://www.npg.org.uk , print NPG P512 (13). This photo of Keeler sitting astride a habitat chair
became one of the most iconographic images of the 1960s due to the ambiguous nature of Keeler’s pose that
displays both objectification and liberation.
13
14
11
The date of manufacture for the doily is difficult to pinpoint. The attribution of the text to ‘Miss Braddon’
suggests a date of around 1870, as the autograph edition of her mid-career novels such as Hostages to Fortune
(1875) use this attribution. Before the 1870s Braddon’s novels were often marketed as ‘by the author of Lady
Audley’s Secret’ whilst the late Victorian and Edwardian novels used ‘M.E. Braddon’. Braddon’s letters to her
peers during the 1880s occasionally sign the name ‘Miss Braddon’ under her signature of Mary Maxwell.
25
M.E. Braddon, Lady Audley’s Secret, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987)[1862], Vol. I, Ch. XV, p. 120.
26
See Elaine Showalter, A Literature of Their Own (London: Virago, 1987)[1977], The Female Malady:
Women, Madness and English Culture, 1830 – 1980 (London: Virago, 1987) and Lyn Pykett, The Improper
Feminine: The Women’s Sensation Novel and The New Woman Writing (London: Routledge, 1992).
27
Karen Chase and Michael Levenson, The Spectacle of Intimacy: A Public Life for the Victorian Family (New
Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2000), p. 207.
28
Thomas Richards, The Commodity Culture of Victorian England: Advertising and Spectacle, 1851 – 1914
(Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1990), p. 3.
24
12